


Ride or Die

by Bastet5



Series: The Wild Hunt [28]
Category: FBI: Most Wanted (TV 2020)
Genre: Claustrophobia, Discussion of Wounds/Injuries, Flashbacks, Gen, Mexican cartels, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, psychopaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28825662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bastet5/pseuds/Bastet5
Summary: August 2019A psychopathic nursing student murders her ex-boyfriend's fiancee in a fit of jealousy and rage and flees south toward the Mexican border, seeking at the same time to place the blame for her actions on anyone but herself.The team find themselves in a race against time, chasing a psychopath as the body-count rises, both to catch the perpetrator and to ensure the perpetrator actually faces justice for her crimes.
Relationships: Clinton Skye & Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Wild Hunt [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678864
Comments: 9
Kudos: 8





	1. Thursday, August 29: Day 1

If there was one thing that working with the Fugitive Task Force for about four-and-a-half years had taught Kateri, it was flexibility and adaptability … especially in regards to scheduling off-duty time. Regular bad guys did not commit crimes on a regular schedule with two weeks’ notice beforehand, _asssss convenient as that would be_ , even more so for the ones who ended up on the Most Wanted List because of their especially heinous crimes.

All that meant that Kateri had gotten called out on every day of the week at about every time of day possible: at the wee hours of the night, right before bed, late morning, middle of the afternoon, smack in the middle of chores mid-day … _and everything in between_. And then, any case often lasted for anywhere form a few days to a week or more, sometimes even two weeks … _or more_. _Those are the bad ones_ , but horrifically unpredictable work schedules made everything off-duty unpredictable, and that impacted everything from spring-cleaning to laundry and, especially, grocery shopping and cooking.

Kateri couldn’t go out and buy groceries once a week or so and work off that for the next week, as one of her foster mothers had usually done (with the occasional emergency trip mid-week because one of the kids had eaten through something). _‘Cause if I get called out at the exact wrong time and I’m gone for just long enough, a lot of it’ll go to waste_. _And I just lovvvveeeeee spending my hard-earned salary on food I never get to eat_.

Even making food was complicated. Kateri tried to avoid making huge batches of anything at one time … _unless it’s something I can just shove in the freezer in the few minutes I have before I’ve gotta bolt to work_.

After a few cases of coming home to multiple spoiled containers of food and colorful, fuzzy, disgusting produce that looked like it might be about to become sentient or grow appendages or something … _one of the few times I’ve scrubbed that fridge with bleach_ … Kateri had quickly learned that going grocery shopping for perishable foods a couple times a week and making the occasional larger stocking up run on less/non-perishable stuff was the way to go … _so that I’m not basically burning large amounts of my food budget_.

Because watching her money go down the trash in the form of rotten food really, really frustrated her. Having grown up largely in poorer households … _wasn’t exactly rolling in money either during college_ … Kateri always tried to be conscientious with how she used her not-overly large salary from the FBI. The high cost of living in New York just made that more essential.

Today was one of her stocking up days. Though most of the grocery stores near her place in Belmont were of the smaller variety, there were a couple of big chain stores within a twenty-minute drive, and Kateri had headed up to her usual one near Marble Hill. There was a sale there on meat and produce she wanted to take advantage of. She had made her list the night before—and for the sake of her weekly budget—always stuck to that closely … with the occasional cheat allowed if sometime caught her eye, so grocery shopping only took as long as it took to walk from one end of the massive store to the other.

_I could swear this place is as big as a small city._

_At least they didn’t rearrange the whole store again since last time I was here_. Kateri despised it when that happened. Finding everything after one of those rearrangings … _is that even a word?_ … always took twice as long.

Soon enough she was waiting in line to checkout so she could go home and go be productive … on something. The lines were long with only a few checkouts open, but Kateri was no stranger to needing to be patient— _nothing like long stakeouts to teach you patience, or you’ll go stir crazy just sitting and sitting and sitting in the car. Clinton’s good company, though, so are the others_ —and occupied herself with idly people watching.

Just as Kateri had finished paying for her groceries and was returning her credit card to her wallet, she felt her personal phone buzz with an incoming text. It could theoretically have been any number of people in her contact list … or even spam, but she had a feeling.

_Murphy’s Law._

_Right after I buy a cart full of groceries._

_It’s going to be Jess, and we’ve got a case._

_I just know it_.

 _I just know it_.

Thanking the cashier for her help, Kateri stuffed her wallet back in her pocket and drove her cart out of the line. _No reason to hold everyone else up while I check my phone_. Though it was still middle of the afternoon on an off day, the best place to park still ended up being outside so that she didn’t get in the way of progress, and Kateri was finally able to pull out her phone.

As expected, the text was from Jess, and they did have a case.

 _And right after I buy groceries, oh bloody h**l_. She felt a flood of disgust and utter exasperation. _Of all the bloody times_. Granted this wasn’t the first inconvenient time that the Batsignal had gone up, but being in the bloody checkout line at the grocery store took the cake … for the moment.

_And when I’ve got to go home, too …_

As always, Kateri’s go-bag was in her truck, but she couldn’t just drive straight to work. She needed to take her groceries back to her apartment and dump what she could in the freezer. It would take 20 minutes just to get home … another fifteen minutes at least to get things inside and the necessary bits put away. _I’ve got to do something with the groceries, or my truck and not just my fridge will be a science experiment waiting to happen._

 _Bloody h**l, I’m going to be late_.

 _Maybe the traffic will cooperate today more than it usually does_.

Muttering imprecations against this particular criminal’s timing in particular and against Murphy’s Law in general, Kateri texted back an acknowledgment and then headed out toward her truck. The sooner she got home the better, and the sooner she got home, the sooner she could get her groceries put away and head back out to work.

 _Another day, another fugitive to catch_.

* * *

It was almost 2:30pm by the time Kateri pulled back into her apartment building complex. Piling her arms full into they almost creaked and groaned with pain, she managed to grab all her bags … _only one trip, saves time_ … and headed inside, thanking an older gentleman who lived down the hall from her for holding the door for her.

 _Bananas go in the freezer. Still warm enough for smoothies. Aren’t good for anything else … except banana bread, maybe_.

_Please let there be room enough for all this meat in the freezer. Thank goodness I have a big freezer._

_Paper bag for the potatoes. Those’ll last awhile. I can make a roast when I get back_.

 _Shove over entrees. Need room for the veggies_.

 _Dry goods, more dry goods, spices, rice, eh … none of this’ll spoil, and I can put it away when I get back_.

Two Tupperware containers of soup that Kateri had made the previous day were also shoved in the freezer along with a loaf of bread, and she almost held her breath as she pushed the freezer door back shut. _It still shuts!!!_ Any leftovers that she didn’t expect to last until she got back were shoved over to one side of the fridge. _Don’t want to get anything confused_. The last thing she wanted was to poison herself on her own cooking. What few groceries that she had bought that couldn’t be frozen and thus she didn’t expect to last or knew wouldn’t last … _this is why I should stick to buying frozen berries_ , she gathered into one bag and took over to one of her neighbors, a nice single mother with two young kids.

Groceries dealt with, Kateri bolted back out to her truck, glancing at her watch and immediately wincing as she hustled. It had been almost 40 minutes since Jess had texted her, which meant that it was almost a certainty that she would be the last to the office, something which she hated happening because she hated when other people had to wait on her.

_Sometimes it can’t be helped._

_Everyone’s been beastly late at least once the past four years._

_Now it’s your turn again._

_Couldn’t be helped. Can’t exactly just leave ‘em in my truck and not exactly room in the fridge at work either_.

* * *

It was a quarter past three by the time Kateri entered the parking garage at FBI Headquarters. Traffic had cooperated … _it wasn’t better than usual, but it wasn’t worse either_. She scanned the lot as she pulled into her usual spot and picked out all of her teammates’ cars. _I hate being late_. The only consolation factor for being late was why exactly she was late. The call coming in while she was at the grocery store would at least provide a story to gripe about to her teammates. _Hopefully, this case won’t be out in the boonies where we have to drive several hours just to get there_. A case closer to New York City would help make up for the delay her late arrival caused.

Everyone else was gathered inside as Kateri entered, duffel hooked over one shoulder. Bags were still being collected, pockets stuffed, and guns retrieved from the cabinet, but the Most Wanted Poster was already up.

“Sorry, boss,” Kateri preempted any possible comment about her being late and let her annoyance at the situation creep into her voice, “Your text caught me at the grocery store of all places! I had to go home so my truck wouldn’t turn into a Petri dish.”

That drew a few good-natured groans and sympathetic looks. All of them had gotten called out at inconvenient times, and they occasionally shared stories of the worst moments Jess’ texts had come in at.

“Let’s avoid that,” Jess noted dryly, and then he gave Hana the signal to start.

Shooting her partner, who was sitting on the couch, a sheepish smile of greeting and a mouthed apology, Kateri headed towards her locker after quickly looking over the poster.

 _Murder_.

 _Armed and VERY dangerous_. _Interesting. Often just ‘armed and dangerous.’_

_Nursing student … not the type I’d expect to go off the rails._

_What happened to ‘do no harm’?_

Something about the suspect’s face in the Most Wanted picture made her look like trouble. Maybe it was the look in her eyes or the set of her jaw, but she just looked like trouble.

_Get your stuff together._

_You can look back over the files in the car on the way to … wherever._

“Connie Romano, 28,” Hana began, “Nursing student. Just before hightailing it out of the Highpoint Apartment parking garage in Hamilton, New Jersey, presumably in that 2012 Hyundai.”

Kateri paused in adding a few things from her locker to her bag to step back over towards the screens to eyeball the security camera footage Hana had brought up. _Pretty unremarkable car. Good choice_. Flashy cars drew too much attention. _Same reason you never should go speeding while driving a bright red sports car._

“Doctor Melissa Alden,” Hana brought up a new picture of a smiling brunette woman, “30, pediatric shrink. Found with a single 9-millimeter bullet lodged in her skull.”

The crime scene photos were on the right monitor so Kateri could see them and the huge pool of blood around Dr. Alden’s head as she finished tucking an extra box of 9mm ammo into her duffel.

_Shot in the head, but not back of the head, execution style._

_Sloppy, or she just wanted Alden to know her killer._

_What the h**l’d a shrink do to tick off this woman????_

“Sadly for her, it wasn’t a kill shot,” Hana continued, and Kateri winced. That was the worst thing about headshots. It was messy enough when they killed you, but a non-lethal head-shot could leave someone a permanent vegetable. _What killed her then?_ “She survived the bullet only to be stomped to death.”

 _God have mercy._ Kateri crossed herself instinctively.

 _I’m sorry I asked_.

The security footage had been just good enough for Kateri to see how tall and pointy Romano’s shoes had been. Being stomped to death … that would have been incredibly painful for Dr. Alden and probably not particularly quick either.

 _Wanted her to suffer_.

“Witnesses?” Barnes asked.

_Second shot would’ve been faster._

“Just one functional security camera,” Hana replied, “Caught an unidentified white male with a neck tattoo exiting a vehicle carrying a gun, silencer attached. A second unidentified party, likely female, behind the wheel.”

_Stomping someone to death …_

_This was personal and vindictive_.

“Stomped to death,” noted Jess, “Something personal.”

“Very personal,” Kateri tacked on, zipping up her duffel, “6:30pm. People would’ve been coming back. A second shot would’ve been faster, but Romano was willing to take the risk, take the time for a slower and more painful execution method. She wanted Alden to suffer.”

 _Something I’d expect out of a gang or a cartel … not someone random off the street_.

“Local cops talked to Dr. Alden’s fiancée, a plastic surgeon. Connie Romano is his ex-girlfriend as of six months ago.”

Kateri’s eyes went wide. That was a very interesting twist to the case. _Could explain the personal angle_. There was nothing like getting dumped and having a bad breakup to set some people off. _But why not go after the boyfriend who dumped her?_

“I’m guessing Connie wasn’t happy about his engagement to Melissa,” mused Jess.

 _Uh, guessing not_.

“Connie was totally obsessed with Melissa,” Hana replied, bringing up a set of new photos on the screens. Kateri set her bag down by her partner’s and leaned one shoulder against one of the metal storage racks and turned her attention to the new photos. “Her cloud account is busting with photos of Melissa that she had from her Facebook page. She paired them up with photos of her own from happier times.”

_Similar looks._

_Similar poses._

_Similar backgrounds … on some_.

_Bloody h**l._

_Obsessive._

_Stalkerish._

_How very disturbing. That never ends well_.

“Guess the guy has a type,” Clinton noted.

 _Yea, Connie and Melissa are rather similar_.

Hana and Barnes replied in unison, “Melissa’s prettier.”

 _True_.

Kenny leaned across the table, “I said it first.”

Barnes moved around the table up closer to the screens and starred at the photos, “Dumped for a more attractive, more successful version of yourself. Man, that’s rough.”

“Luckily most of us get over it,” Jess replied dryly, rising from his seat.

The briefing was coming to an end, and everyone started finishing any last-minute collections of stuff, grabbed coats, and Kateri heard Clinton at the gun cabinet pulling out his sniper rifle.

“CID have any evidence Connie’s fleeing the jurisdiction?” Clinton asked suddenly.

“She has a Sinaloa Cartel connection through her cousin Ernesto Cruz,” Hana replied, “When she was 16, Connie and Cruz were caught in Texas with 57 handguns in their car.” _Bloody h**l!_ “Cruz did 8 years for gun-running. Connie got probation.”

 _The Sinaloa Cartel … d**n._ Drug trafficking, money laundering, murder, kidnapping … the Sinaloa Cartel did a bit everything. _Don’t forget the high body count._ They were VERY, VERY dangerous, very widespread with connections all over and to a lot of other nasty groups, including MS-13.

Kateri grimaced, “I’ve never done any works with the Mexican cartels, but I’ve known a few agents who have. The Sinaloa Cartel’s a nasty piece of work with connections all over. There’s a good chance, I’d say, Connie’s going to hightail it across the border. I doubt she’ll have any trouble finding some help for that, especially with a cousin mixed up in the cartel.”

 _Once she disappears into their web, good luck bringing her to justice_.

Jess nodded, and Kenny added wryly, “I’d go there.”

“Any excuse to get a good mole,” Hana replied in the same vein. In this line of work, sometimes you just had to find humor where you could, find something to laugh at, or the darkness of the cases would drive you nuts, and you’d burn out before you knew it.

Bags were grabbed, and everyone filed out of the muster room into the garage as Jess ordered, “Get a bead on Cousin Ernesto. Put an agent on him.”

“I’ll do it, boss,” called Kateri, “And I’ll see if there’s anyone upstairs with lines to the Cartel that’ll still talk to me.”

Her complains and reports about her old team and then her rather abrupt departure from Organized Crime … _the reasons for which I made clear to the higher-ups yet again_ … hadn’t won her a lot of friends, and getting information … sometimes took a little finagling and tap-dancing to find someone who knew something AND was willing to talk to her without string’s attached … _and with no attached complaints about my actions or about my dragging my old teammates through the mud._

 _The old boys club is still firmly entrenched upstairs in a number of places_.

Within a few minutes, the cars were loaded, and the cavalcade headed out of the parking garage. “I hope the rest of your day has been less interesting than the last couple hours,” Clinton commented as he pulled out onto the street behind Kenny.

Kateri gave a wry snort, “My day was nice and quiet and uneventful until I decided today was a good day to go grocery shopping. Sorry to be late, but I needed to go home or watch a good chunk of my food budget go up in smoke.”

“Don’t worry about it, kid. Jess and I both hit traffic, so we hadn’t been there that long.”

_That makes me feel a little better._

“I just especially hate being late when we get called out late in the day. The longer it takes to get out, the less daylight we have, and Hamilton’s a bit of a drive.”

_Not December where it’s dark before dinner._

_But still … what’s sunset right now? 7:30ish._

“Yes,” Clinton agreed, “but sometimes it’s unavoidable. What you did was reasonable. I hope you won’t lose too much.”

Kateri shook her head, remembering a second later to add verbally. _He’s driving, not looking at you_ , “No, thankfully. Most of what I got could either get left on the counter to put away when I get back or get shoved in the freezer. I’m so glad I’ve got a big freezer. There were only a few things that I had to give to one of my neighbors.”

“That’s good,” Clinton replied. He took one hand off the wheel long enough to pull his phone from his pocket and hand it over to Kateri who took it automatically, though she was unsure what he wanted her to do with it. “Can you pull up Maps on my phone before you make your calls? I know we need I-95 south, but this time of the day, the traffic might be problematic.”

 _And advance warning is always nice_.

“Sure,” Kateri tucked her own phone and notepad between her legs and shoved her pen behind her ear. _Never got good at doing much on a phone one-handed._ With both hands free, she quickly typed in the code to unlock her partner’s phone. They’d been partners long enough to have needed to use each other’s phones more than once, so Kateri knew his password, and Clinton knew the codes to both her personal phone and her work phone. It just came in handy sometimes. _Don’t have to unlock it and hand it over_. Clinton’s phone was well-organized, so it only took a moment to find the right app and get the address entered.

_Hour and 10 to Hamilton._

_Less than 3 hours daylight left by the time we arrived._

_Joy._

Once Kateri was sure Clinton had what he needed for the drive, she settled down to make her own calls. The first was to the analysts back at HQ to get a last known on Ernesto Cruz and any recent information the Bureau had on him. Once she had that information … _can’t start surveillance on someone if we don’t know where he is …_ she would get in touch with the appropriate people at the Newark Field Office.

After only a few minutes’ conversation with the analysts, Kateri realized, however, that getting an agent on Cruz was not going to be a simple task after all. The agency had no idea where Cruz was, and their file was years out of date. After his gun-running arrest with Connie twelve years earlier, Cruz had just dropped off the map.

_The last known for him is years out of date._

_His old cellphone has been disabled._

_No hits on the credit cards._

_Bloody h**l._

Kateri pinched the bridge of her nose and huffed out a sigh that drew a concerned look from her partner. She made a face and, covering the microphone with one hand, said, “We have no bloody clue where Cruz is.”

The only solution Kateri knew for a moment was to get the analysts searching for Cruz, now a priority task, and put surveillance on his last known address and any known close associates in case Cruz returned there or made contact with any them. Those agents needed to exercise great caution since Cruz’s position in the cartels and his current location was unknown.

_Gotta tread carefully around the Cartels._

_Don’t want to tip him off either if he’s still in the area and we just don’t know it._

_Could lose one of our best leads._

Trying to track down her former colleagues who done any work investigating the Sinaloa Cartel or had even worked within it proved to be harder and even less successful. _Maybe they’ll know someone who’ll know something that’ll help spruce up our bare file in Cruz._ The first agent whose name she drudged up out of the depths of her memory had retired three years earlier and had never even heard of Cruz. _Probably not a high-ranking member then, not that I would have figured he was_. The second had died in a car accident back in January. _Bloody h**l._ It had been the winter weather that had done him in. _I would have been suspicious, but no evidence of foul play was found, so probably not the Cartel to blame. Probably_. The third agent she tried, who had actually done undercover work within the cartel and survived with his skin intact, had actually transferred to an analyst position two years before and was no longer involved with investigating the Cartel. He hadn’t heard of Cruz either but promised to put out some feelers and get back to her. The fourth agent, admittedly the longest shot of having helpful intel, gave her the boot as soon as Kateri stated her name, which made her nearly blow smoke out her ears.

There were more people within Organized Crime that had investigated or were investigated the Cartels, but it was fastest to go to her contacts first. _And more calls we’ll have to be saved for later, because Hamilton is fast approaching_.

* * *

Once the team arrived in Hamilton Township, New Jersey, they dispersed. Other agents were bringing down the bus, and Hana and Kenny left to meet up with them and get set up there. Barnes and Jess headed straight for the medical practice of Dr. Aaron Pierce, the plastic surgeon finance of the late Dr. Alden, while Kateri and Clinton went to Connie’s apartment complex to start searching it for clues.

Local officers had been sitting on Connie’s apartment building since the previous evening when the murder had occurred, so Kateri split off to talk to them while Clinton went on inside. As she expected, there was nothing to report: no sightings of Connie, no sightings of anyone matching the horrifically vague description of the man and woman seen with her, no sightings of anyone else unusual hanging around the apartment complex.

It had been a quiet night and a quiet day so far.

With a word of thanks, Kateri headed off inside. Connie’s apartment was on the third floor, and Kateri headed up the steps. Yes, the elevator might be slightly faster depending on where it was at the moment, but considering a lot of sitting around starring at a computer screen for hours on end was involved in chasing fugitives, moving was good, and the stairs took barely more time.

Even if Kateri hadn’t known the number for Connie’s apartment, she could have clocked it immediately anyway as soon as she came off the stairs onto the third floor. A local cop was standing outside an apartment door halfway down the hall. As soon as she flashed the badge clipped to her belt, he waved her through.

Kateri stepped through the door into Connie’s apartment with some amount of apprehension. It wasn’t that she was expecting a trap or danger of some kind, but considering Connie’s obsessive, stalkerish behavior towards Alden, part of her would not have been surprised to see a creepy interior. Lots of photos plastered over one wall. Maybe some surveillance photos. Strings. Something sharp shoved through a photo of Melissa. _Or maybe you’ve been watching too much TV …_ Though granted stalker walls were really a thing outside of TV.

_They just look more dramatic on TV._

The inside of Connie’s apartment was relatively normal … _or would be if it were clean_. (Hearing her partner moving in one of the back rooms, Kateri called out, “Just me, Clinton.” He called back a quick acknowledgement.) The paint scheme was nice. The furniture was nice. The decorations were nice, but it seemed like every flat surface was covered in alcohol bottles.

“Bloody h**l,” Kateri breathed out the curse, looking around with wide eyes, “Clinton, there are at least a dozen bottles out here!!!”

“Keep counting,” was her partner’s dry response.

She kept counting and ended up with quite a larger number. _Bloody h**l_. “Are you sure we didn’t stumble into the remains of a frat party??” She called back.

There was a muffled laugh from down the hallway, and a few seconds later Clinton appeared. “One would wonder. Look at the pictures by the door.” He made an oblique gesture toward the shelves on the far side of the door that Kateri had seen for a moment before all the bottles drew her attention away.

With one more look of disbelief at the kitchen counter with all its bottles and glasses (both wine glasses and smaller shot glasses), Kateri moved to examine the shelves Clinton had indicated.

“Welllll, I can’t say she has good taste in books,” Kateri mused, her eyes scanning over the titles of various pop psychology books. Another couple of wine bottles and another shot glass were on the shelves. _Bloody h**l._

Then Kateri saw the pictures, and her heart went cold. _She still has pictures of her with Pierce_. _Seriously!_ She turned and shot her partner a look of almost disbelief that quickly turned to concern, “Connie still has pictures of herself with Pierce after all this time. Talk about obsessive … and creepy.”

_Everyone has bad breakups._

_Just get over him and get over yourself_.

“There are more pictures of them in the back,” her partner noted dryly.

 _Oh, for heaven’s sake_.

_Denying reality doesn’t change reality._

Kateri shook her head, “Is there anything of interest beside booze bottles and the proof of Connie’s obsession and utter denial of reality?” She hooked a thumb back toward the pictures on the shelf by the door.

“Still looking. I …” Clinton started to reply, before the buzzing of his phone drew his attention away, “Jess and Barnes just finished talking to Pierce and are on their way over.”

“Anything helpful from him?”

Clinton scanned through the texts quickly, “Not a lot. Pierce said he never thought Connie would be capable of murder.” _People don’t generally do. It’s the bad days when you do think that_. “The two had an amicable break-up,” _Or not …_ “And they haven’t been in contact since Connie moved out of their place. They’ll give us the full rundown later.”

“He got over her. She did not get over him,” Kateri murmured.

About fifteen minutes later, Kateri and Clinton went downstairs as Jess and Barnes were arriving. (Mrs. Romano, Connie’s mother, was on her way anyway, and they’d escort her up.) The two passed on a few other pieces of information from the visit with Pierce: the fact that he and Alden had been planning a move to Hawaii; the need to post agents at his office and apartment, which Kateri promised to get right on; and his encounter with the mysterious female security guard at the coffee shop. (Barnes had texted Kenny and Hana, who were going to start trying to track her down.)

Mrs. Romano was a pleasant-faced older woman who leaned heavily on a cane as she walked. Kateri and Clinton escorted her back upstairs to Connie’s apartment and introduced her to Jess.

“Come in, Mrs. Romano,” noted Jess.

Mrs. Romano looked around the apartment … almost as if she were seeing it for the first time or was just surprised by the disorder. (Kateri still couldn’t get over all the wine bottles!). “I think someone made a mistake,” she protested, limping over to a chair and taking a seat, “My daughter’s not a bad person.”

 _Doesn’t most everyone say that?_ Kateri resisted the urge to switch into Mohawk and make a snarky comment.

“If there’s a mistake, we’ll find out,” Jess replied.

 _That security footage was pretty damning_.

Kateri stepped back out of the walking path so she wouldn’t be in Barnes’ way as the older woman perused the apartment. Leaned one shoulder against a bare patch of wall, Kateri double-checked her phones quickly for updates of which there were none. She idly wondered if she had any contacts in Jersey who had Cartel connections.

_Mob connections, sure._

_Cartel … not that I can recall_.

“This is your first time in your daughter’s apartment, isn’t it?” Jess asked.

“Well,” Mrs. Romano hedged, “Between her work and her studies, Connie doesn’t really have time to …” Her voice trailed off.

“To take care of her own mother?” Jess asked pointedly, making Kateri wonder exactly what was wrong health-wise with Mrs. Romano.

Mrs. Romano’s only response was an uncomfortable look and a slight shrug.

“When was the last time you saw her?”

“Two months ago,” Mrs. Roman replied, “I asked her for help with my bills. She turned me down.”

 _Ouch_.

“Where would she go if she was in trouble?” Clinton finally spoke up.

“I don’t really know who’s in her life these days,” The longer the conversation went on, the more uncomfortable Mrs. Romano seemed to get.

“What about her father?” Jess pressed.

“We haven’t seen Mateo in 20 years. Connie was eight when he left. I raised her myself.”

“You’ve done a good job,” replied Jess, _welllll, one wonders, but not like we’d say that to you_ , looking up at Clinton and then across at Kateri, and then added, “except for that time in Texas.”

_Uh, yeaaaaaaaa._

_Trap snapped_.

Mrs. Romano stiffened, “That was my mistake. I sent her to El Paso to stay with my sister and her husband. They have 3 daughters, and I thought it would be good for her.”

“Instead, she hit it off with her cousin Ernesto,” Clinton noted. _A Cartel associate. Not exactly good company for a teenager_. “We’re trying to find him.” _And not having much luck yet._

“No one knows where he is,” Mrs. Romano turned towards Clinton.

Kateri stepped forward, opening her mouth to ask for more information or even what their last known address for him was— _just in case it’s more up-to-date than our records_ —but suddenly Barnes reappeared from the back, carrying a shirt in her hands.

“Just pulled this out of the laundry hamper,” she said, her heels tapping on the hardwood floor as she walked, “Looks like someone tried to get a wine stain out. No luck on the stain, but,” she held the shirt up so Clinton and Kateri, who was at his shoulder, could see, “Might fit the security guard who came up to Pierce.”

Clinton took the shirt from Barnes’ hands and held it up to study the logo, tilting it so Kateri could see clearly too. _McKnight Security_. She squinted at the logo—three outlined shields with interlocking lines. _Never heard of them_.

* * *

Kateri snapped a photo of the logo and texted it off to Hana so the tech genius could work her magic. Although the description of the mysterious security guard was rather vague, Hana was able to track her down within an hour. The description matched one woman at the company: Amber Matos, who also interestingly enough had not been to work in three days. _Interesting timing._ Also, of note was that there was a vague resemblance between the blurry security camera image of Connie’s female accomplice/getaway drive and the security guard, Amber Matos, who had approached Pierce at the coffee shop.

Hana, because she was just seriously awesome, also managed to track down a current address for Amber’s mother, Sonia, who worked at a hair salon in downtown Hampton. Leaving Connie’s apartment after further discussions with Mrs. Romano and further pursuals of the apartment that gave Jess time to collect his goodie box, Jess and Barnes departed to speak with the mother, while Kateri and Clinton left to pick up dinner since it was getting late.

 _Out of daylight now, but we made some progress_.

Within an hour Jess and Barnes returned to the bus, and once they had made some headway into their food, they updated the others on what they had found. Amber Matos had failed to pick up her young daughter Zoey from her mother’s house on Monday, three days before and hadn’t called, a fact that had both grandmother and granddaughter quite worried since it was only a week until school started. Sonia believed that the charges against her daughter were impossible, since Amber was trying her hardest to be a good mother.

_One does not necessarily lead to the other being impossible._

_With my work with the gangs, I’ve seen plenty of women trying to take care of their kids and the only work they can find is … rough._

_If that’s what puts food on the table and clothes on their kids back, well, they’re willing to do it whatever the cost_.

“Any family Amber might try to reach out to?” Kenny asked, “Husband?”

Barnes shook her head, “No, Zoey’s father was deported back to Guatemala three years ago, and the rest of their family is in Puerto Rico. According to Sonia, Amber had no other friends besides Connie, who Sonia is not fond of at all.”

 _Another danger sign_ : c _ontrolling, isolating behavior_.

According to Sonia, Amber had used to take Zoey with her during her outings with Connie, but more recently she had been dumping her daughter off on her grandmother more and more. What those outings were, Sonia had not specified, but Zoey had been able to provide some more helpful information. Zoey had been taken by her mother to Dr. Alden’s as a patient … _okkkkaayyyyyyy. Weird_ …. and afterwards, they’d meet Connie for ice cream. _Connie might not be able to get close to Alden. So she use Amber as a proxy to get info, spy?_ Sometimes they would also meet one of her mother’s friends: a boy with an eye on her neck.

_The man in the security camera footage had a neck tattoo … same person?_

Jess passed a drawing of the tattoo over to Hana and Kenny at that point, “Run that through the databases. See if you get any hits, and find me anything you can about him.”

It was still day one, and this case kept getting stranger by the hour.


	2. Friday, August 30: Day 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. The new semester has gotten off to a busy start.

Little more progress was made Thursday evening, and though Kateri and Hana and Kenny all left searches running overnight and had calls into contacts, “tattoo boy” still remained only “tattoo boy” with no name attached to the moniker by the time the wake-up call came Friday morning. Once everyone was awake, breakfast had been inhaled, and enough coffee brewed for full mugs for everyone, the team left the bus and headed further into town to the late Dr. Alden’s medical practice.

A light rain was falling that morning, and Kateri resisted the urge to hunch her shoulders, wishing that she had a coat with her that actually had a hood to keep her head dry. She could feel the drops landing on her head as she followed her partner up the walk toward the office, could feel the wetness soaking into her hair … _and it just feels weird_. One hand snaked up long enough to push a couple of stray damp strands out of her eyes and then retreated back into her coat pocket. _I’m going to end up looking like a drowned rat if I’m out too long._

“The guy with the neck tattoo might have been a client of Melissa’s,” Kenny hypothesized, his footsteps loud on the wet pavement. The whole team had piled into one SUV for the drive over, and the conversation had centered on “tattoo boy,” a _very Hana way to christen him_.

 _Is my umbrella even in my bag?_ Kateri glanced back over her shoulder

“With this tattoo,” Hana replied, her voice dripping with snark, as she walked with her head bent over her tablet, “what he needs is a plastic surgeon.” (Kateri really, really hoped she was watching where she was going, not just what was on her tablet screen, _or you might end up faceplanting. Hopefully, your tablet case is actually waterproof, too_ ).

 _Or did I forget to put it back in after I set it out at home to dry a few days ago?_ Kateri only had the one umbrella and pulled it out of her go-bag periodically when she needed it off-duty. _I think I did_. _Ah, well_.

“Connie sent Amber and her daughter on recon missions to Melissa’s office,” noted Barnes, who was walking with Jess at the back of the line, “Maybe to get a fix on her schedule.”

 _That’s one creepy way of finding that out_.

“Or maybe just for the thrill of having the upper hand in a game Melissa didn’t know she was playing,” Jess countered.

 _And that’s just sick_.

Walking a couple steps in front of Kateri, Clinton froze as they reached the building’s front door, holding up one hand to signal the rest of them to freeze and quiet down. Kateri, who had glanced away across the lawn, tensed immediately before she even saw the problem, one hand moving towards her gun on her hip.

Then she saw the problem: the office door was open a crack, and a pane of glass—the one that would allow someone to reach in and unlock the door form the inside—was broken.

 _Bloody h**l_.

Kateri tapped her partner’s arm noiselessly with the fingers of her right hand. _I’m right behind you_ , the gesture said, _You lead. I’ll follow._ Her left hand was on her gun, ready to draw. All seemed quiet … save for the team, but whoever had broken in could still be inside … hiding … waiting for them … _or who the h**l knows_.

The door was pushed gently open, swinging in on thankfully silent hinges. The inside of the office was a total mess. Chairs were upended in the waiting room on the right. Pictures hung crooked on their nails or lay on the floor, glass shattered and frames twisted. Papers were scattered everywhere all across the floors like a veritable whirlwind had torn through the building, while still leaving the structure intact.

 _Bloody h**l_.

Clinton and Kateri went straight ahead toward the room in the back, footfalls as soft as they could make them, quickly clearing the back rooms. All was quiet. The whirlwind had come and left.

_Nobody but us._

_And the mess_.

“This doesn’t look good,” was Kenny’s apt summation of the scene, his voice drifting up the hall.

 _Very not good_.

“The party never stops with Connie,” Barnes added dryly as Kateri and Clinton came back down the hall.

Kenny was crouching just past the doorway of the waiting room, holding a dead fish in one hand. A large fish tank was set against one wall, probably for the delight and entertainment of Dr. Alden’s young patients, but now … someone had smashed in the glass at the front of the tank, and the floor was covered in broken glass, blue rocks (which had covered the bottom of the tank), plant bits (also from the tank), and dead fish.

 _Bloody h**l_.

“I don’t know what she’s got against fish,” Kenny wondered aloud.

“She’s just mean,” Clinton answered dryly.

 _Or she’s a psychopath_.

Granted fish were fish, and not dogs or cats, which had a bit more brain power and, in many cases, seeming human characteristics— _I’ve met a few of both that I could swear understood English_ —but still … this was needless cruelty.

Jess, Hana, and Barnes all headed down the long, narrow hallway that ran parallel to the front wall of the building and linked the waiting room to staff rooms. The room, hallways, and really the entire building were not that large, and the hallways were narrow enough that even two people couldn’t easily walk abreast. Kateri paused in the entrance hall by the door, not liking the looks of the narrow hallways, which almost seemed to be moving.

 _No, the hallways are not trying to squash you_.

 _It’s just your claustrophobia_.

(She always had the same feeling on the highway whenever she was driving next to one or, worse, between two tractor trailers. Even when the massive trucks were driving smack in the center of their lanes, her eyes and brain always tried to play tricks on her, keeping telling her that the trucks were closing in and in and in and in on the SUV, and _no, you’re actually really not about to get squashed_.)

“She targeted patient files H through O,” Barnes’s voice drifted down the hall a minute later.

“Tattoo boy probably stole his file so he couldn’t be traced,” Hana called back from a different room.

_Been there … seen that._

_Generally, backfires._

“Just compare billing records to patient files,” suggested Kateri, pitching her voice to carry but trying to keep from yelling at the same time, “See what’s missing.”

“Someone peed all over this desk,” Hana suddenly hollered, disgust coloring her words.

Kateri’s eyes went wide. _Seriously?_ This she had to see for herself. Marshaling her courage and reminding herself that, no, the hallway was not truly going to close in and crush her however much it seemed like it, she followed the voices down the hall. Kenny’s bulk peering in one doorway told her where the scene was. He moved aside to let her see, and the acrid smell of urine was noticeable even several feet away.

“Guessing Connie marked her turf,” Kenny muttered.

 _Seriously!_ Kateri shook her head in sheer disbelief. _Now this, I’ve not seen before_. Hana pressed a hand to her nose, probably trying to block the stench, and grimaced. Kateri resisted the urge to do the same.

The buzz of a phone drew Kateri’s attention away. Clinton, who was just a couple of doors down, had paused in the hallway, looking down at his phone in one hand. _Now what happened?_

“Amber’s car was just found abandoned five miles from the murder scene,” he announced a moment later.

 _And three guesses and two don’t count where they’re going … south to Mexico_ , Kateri approached and peered over her shoulder, checking to see if there was any other news. Sometimes Clinton would read things verbatim, but sometimes he summarized the highlights. He turned the phone so she could see.

 _Ah, just paraphrased_.

“Connie’s running the show,” noted Barnes, “Amber’s probably with her.”

“Along with tattoo boy,” added Hana, “on a road-trip to sunny Mexico.”

There was the crunch of glass under feet as Jess made his way back into the waiting room with the broken fish tank and the colorful fish lying dead on the floor. “Connie’s got impulsive cruelty,” he said, his back to the group, his head titled at an angle that probably meant he was looking in the direction of the fish, “Disinhibition, all the markers of a true psychopath. If I was on the run with her, I’d fear for my own life.”

 _Uh, yeaaaa_.

* * *

ERT was called in to go over the scene at Dr. Alden’s office with a fine-tooth comb, and the team settled down for the tedious but important task of comparing patient files and billing records to find out who exactly “tattoo boy” actually was. It took a couple of hours—the number of patients with last names of H through O was rather large—but finally, finally they had a name: Jared Locke. After a very interesting talk with Jared’s probation officer and a look at his file, it took another hour to rush through a search warrant of his parent’s home—where he still lived—but after an early lunch, the team headed there with a number of cops.

_No improved psych profile, no getting off probation._

_Alden wouldn’t sign off._

_Yea, that would tick someone off._

_Getting revenge on Alden would make both Connie and Jared happy …_

The Locke family home was a large, fancy one with a manicured lawn and hedges, beautiful plants and shrubs, and fancy cars parked in the driveway.

 _Not exactly a picture that fits with a young tattooed thug and wannabe hit-man_.

Jared’s father was the one who opened the door at Clinton’s knock, and his eyes went wide, seeing the agents and police officers grouped on his doorstep. “Uh, Jared isn’t here. You can’ just come in,” his stutters trailed off, and he automatically backed up as Clinton stepped through the doorway, brandishing the search warrant in one hand.

“Read the warrant,” said Clinton, “Your son has been identified as a suspect in the murder of Dr. Melissa Alden.” There was a fancy staircase that led upstairs right off the front door, and Clinton headed up, Kateri a few steps behind.

 _Give me practical over this fancy stuff any day_.

The protestations of Jared’s parents followed them, mixing with the voices of their teammates. _Of course, they don’t think their precious kid coulda done it. You know it’s REALLY bad when parents think their kids ACTUALLY could be the suspect_.

Jared’s room upstairs was easy to find, if for no other reason that the décor was about the complete opposite of the refined elegance of the rest of the house. His room was … basically what you would get if someone who knew nothing about the actual nightmarish horrors and depravity and violence of the Mexican cartels … tried to make bedroom décor fitting for a cartel thug.

“Bloody h**l,” Kateri swore violently, as she entered the room, looking around with wide eyes and a stunned expression.

_Seriously???_

Dark black paint. Leather decoration. White-tiger’s eye bedspread. Poster of the fallen Statue of Library on the wall. Fancy record player and stereo system. Some sort of daggers next to a Scarface poster. Skull poster. _Seriously?_ More skulls on the shelves by the door. _What is it with you and skulls?_

Then Kateri’s gaze came down to what she really should have noticed as she entered the room, considering she had paused right next to it: a giant glass terrarium … sitting on the desk right next to her … holding a fuzzy ... a giant, fuzzy spider.

 _Bloody h**l_.

She only realized she had jerked backwards when she stumbled into her partner, who steadied her instinctively, a hand on her back.

“Easy, kid,” said Clinton.

Normally, Kateri wasn’t afraid of spiders, especially not the regular size kind— _I’ve killed plenty of interlopers in my apartment_ —though she despised the giant fuzzy kind, and especially not if she had a little warning. But spiders … or mice … or some other creepy crawlies, sometimes when she was surprised … she could still

_Hear_

_Skittering little feet nearby_

_Feel_

_The tickles of what she hoped were just spiders crawling across her arms_.

_Smell_

_Things she really didn’t want to think about._ **  
**

Abandoned barns, especially damp ones, were a wonderful breeding ground for horrible little creatures and creepy-crawlies, and sometimes, years later, the smallest, usually most innocuous things, could still remind her of that room and those terrifying hours and those bonds. Kateri forced her mind away before it could go further down that mental rabbit hole.

“Why the h**l would you keep one as a pet?” She exclaimed, pressing one hand over her eyes for a moment, giving herself a second to block out the horrid fuzzy thing.

A hand squeezed her shoulder, and Kateri was glad only she and Clinton were in the room, hating her own weakness, hating her momentary freak-out over a spider of all things.

“You’d wonder,” he replied, “Do you need to go outside?”

Kateri let the hand ground her for a moment and then pulled away, shaking her head. “No, I can do my work. It’s just a d**n spider,” annoyance at herself harshened her voice more than she intended. Guilt quickly replaced the annoyance: _he’s trying to watch out for you_. “Sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it, kid,” Clinton replied, a look of understanding on his face, “I’ll take the closet if you take out here?” (When she was on edge, small spaces would make things worse, and the bedroom was large enough she could keep her distance from the spider unless she was checking the desk.

 _One thing at a time_.

“Sure,” Kateri agreed, scrubbing her hands across her face and sucking in a deep breath through her nose. _In and out. Just a d**n spider. It’s in a box WITH a lid. Get a grip!_ “Watch what you touch without gloves, especially any powdery stuff,” she added the warning in a rush, “Jared’s got some nasty connections, or at least wants them, and if he’s into drugs …”

It was probably an unnecessary warning, considering that Clinton had been doing the job longer than she had, even though Kateri herself had done more work around drugs and gangs, but …

At that moment, it made her feel better to be safe.

 _Jared’s on probation. Be riskier to mess with the nasty stuff without getting caught_.

(Mexican cartels, especially the Sinaloa Cartel, were deep in the drug trade, and there were many, many different types of drugs that one could get in the underbelly of basically any big city Kateri could name. Anything from pot to coke and everything in between, but then there were the drugs that you could overdose on just by accidentally brushing against the powder, no inhaling or injecting required. She’d seen men die from ODing on those drugs. Police officers had landed in the hospital by just getting powder on their skin. Those types of drugs, even more than most, were no joke.)

A few minutes later Hana and Kenny arrived to help with what was turning into quite an interesting and informative search, and a few minutes after that Jess and Barnes arrived with Mr. and Mrs. Locke trailing behind, fancy coffee cups still in hand, like little ducklings.

Hana, who was studying Jared’s music equipment, turned toward the door as they arrived, and Kateri, who had already had to listen to Jared’s horrific taste in music once already, _which is once too many_ , knew what she was going to do before she spoke. _Give me Hans Zimmer any day over this junk_. (Kateri had strong opinions when it came to music.)

“Welcome to Jared’s house of narco horror,” Hana greeted Jess and Barnes, “Check out this playlist.”

Music filled the room. The words—Spanish—were unintelligible to … _I think everybody_ … in the room, except perhaps for Jared’s parents, but the beat and the sound made Kateri’s teeth grind. _I’d rather be deaf as a post than have to listen to this!_

Kateri turned away from the closet door where she was studying what Clinton had just found in time to see the look that swept across Jess’ face as the music continued on.

“A love song to a drug dealer,” Hana added, finally shutting off the music.

_Thank goodness. An end to the torture!_

“Well, we’ve got scales, baggies, pipe,” Clinton announced, bringing out the things that he had just shown Kateri a minute before, “No weed, but this closet reeks of intent.”

 _Maybe literally_. She wasn’t sure whether she could actually smell weed in the closest or was just imagining it because she was thinking about the drug.

“That’s just for medicinal purposes,” Mrs. Locke protested from the doorway.

 _Yea? And which of the awful illnesses that weed is usually used to treat in Jersey does Jared have?_ Kateri stamped down on the skeptical look that wanted to fill her face.

“Yea, and what does this cure?” Kenny asked sharply from his seat at Jared’s desk, letting a small black box drop nosily onto the desk. “We’ve got PBC pipe, cotton wadding, duct tape,” he rifled through the box’s contents as he spoke to make the point, “a drill,” he pulled a yellow cordless drill out from underneath the desk and turned it on for a moment and then turned it off and tossed it aside, “Everything you need to make a silencer.”

 _All the supplies you need for a homemade silencer_ , Kateri thought silently to herself in sync with Kenny’s words.

“Stop talking about our son like he’s a degenerate killer,” Mrs. Locke protested again.

_Lady, have you been listening to the news or anything we’ve been saying since we arrived???_

“He’s just a scared kid,” she added, a slight tremor in her voice.

Kateri’s head came up and around at that, glancing first at Mrs. Locke and then at her partner who recognized the significance of those words, too, from the look in his eyes.

 _He’s just a scared kid_.

 _Scared_.

_Current state of being._

_How would you know that unless …_

“You heard it in his voice,” said Jess. It was a statement, not a question, “You’ve spoken to him, haven’t you?” He took a couple of steps forward toward Jared’s bedroom door. The Lockes were still hovering in the doorway.

“We’ve been in contact,” George Locke confirmed, stepping around his wife and inside, “We text his burner phone. He calls it, and then he, uh, gets in touch with us when he can.”

 _Bloody h**l_.

_You couldn’t have told us that??_

* * *

As frustrating as it was to JUST learn know that someone was in contact with Jared and, thus, almost certainly knew where Connie and Amber were, _since he’s probably with ‘em_ , it was still a valuable piece of intel, and it gave the team a big jump on actually tracking them down. _There’s a hell of a lot of land to cover between Jersey and the Mexican border_.

Once Kenny had his equipment set up to trace calls, Jess had Mr. Locke put a text through to Jared’s cell, and then it was just a waiting game for him to call back, and call back he did within half-an-hour.

Mr. Locke went on the line first, doing the lead up and making sure Jared was calm enough that he wouldn’t automatically hang up as soon as Jess got on. _Or we waste this whole effort and freak Jared out at the same time_ _… and maybe blow our chance of contacting him again_.

Jared, however, seemed very much on edge and very much in a hurry, saying after only a minute of conversation, “I don’t have much time.” There was some sort of clanging or rattling noise in the background as if things were bumping together.

 _Wonder where he is right now_. Kateri wondered, starring out over the manicured back lawn. She and Clinton were standing at the back of the kitchen by the French doors that led outside, and Kateri was starring idly into space, more of her attention on the voices in her comm unit in her ear than the actual greenery her eyes were looking at and the wonderful sense of space. _Somewhere Connie can’t hear him if he values his hide intact, I’m guessing_.

“We’re getting’ you home, kiddo,” Mr. Locke tried to reassure his son, “but you’re going to have to trust us.”

There was a click of another line connecting, and then Jess’ voice came over the phone line, “Jared, this is Agent Jess LaCroix of the FBI. I promised your parents I’ll do everything I can to get you home safely. You hear me?”

As much trouble as Jared was in, he was still a kid that had gotten mixed up with the wrong people and the wrong crowd and gotten himself in too deep into a mess he couldn’t dig himself out of.

There was a soft noise of assent, as Kateri turned away from the window, shifting a step over until her shoulder was pressed against Clinton’s arm. She left her head lean back against the glass, trying to keep her mind focused on the call and work, not on that stupid spider from upstairs.

“Good,” said Jess, turning to start pacing, “You’re with Connie and Amber. Is that correct?”

“Yea, they around,” Jared replied. (The bad English was interesting, given who his parents were and the probably expensive school he’d probably gone to. _Is he trying to sound tough? Like a cartel thug?)_

“You’re probably worried about what’ll happen to you if you turn yourself in,” Jess continued, “I give you my word you’ll be treated with more leniency than Connie and Amber.”

 _Low standard_.

“You’re not the only ones that I’m dealing with, you know?” Jared sounded genuinely scared.

“If you’re talking about the Sinaloa Cartel, we’re aware of that situation. You’ll be protected.”

 _The best we can_. Clinton stepped away from the door … to do something, and Kateri tracked his movements idly with her eyes.

“If I snitch on Connie,” said Jared, “I’m done. There’s nowhere to hide.”

 _Psychopath with connections to one of the continent’s nastiest cartels … yea, I can see that_.

“What are you doing, man?” Jess pushed, “A true narco does what he needs to survive. He certainly wouldn’t let a couple of half-cocked females call the shots on his life.” Jess had a way with words that was undeniable, a way of pitching and adapting his negotiating to the strangest and most unusual of audiences.

There was a murmured conversation in the background, something about ice. Jared was talking to someone else wherever he was.

“Jared,” Jess brought the conversation back on track, “Take the offer, and beat the rap. We can be anywhere within five hours.”

There was a moment’s hesitation, and then finally Jared replied, “Meet me outside Cacciatori’s Pizza in Raleigh.”

_North Carolina!_

_They’ve covered good ground_.

The call was ended, and Jess stepped toward the counter where Kenny and all his equipment were. “Couldn’t get an exact location,” Kenny replied to the unspoken question, “North Carolina within 100 miles of Raleigh.”

“I got a lock on a Cacciatori in East Raleigh off the 440,” Hana exclaimed, looking up from her tablet.

 _We’re headed to North Carolina then_.

* * *

Raleigh, North Carolina, was a little over 450 miles away from where the team currently was in Jersey, and even at the speeds they were sometimes forced to drive, getting to Raleigh within five hours would have been impossible. Jess put in the call, though, to get the jet ready to fly, and by the time the team had gathered their things and made it to the airport where the jet was usually housed, it was ready to fly.

Night had fallen by the time the team reached Raleigh. Cars were waiting for them at the airport, and they headed straight for the Cacciatori’s near the 440. Jess was dropped off outside the restaurant, a small storefront in a medium size strip-mall, and the others settled down in the parking lot across the street to wait and watch.

 _And see if Jared actually shows up_.

Over an hour passed quietly without any sight of Jared. (The team had arrived in Raleigh just before five hours had passed since they had spoken to him from his parent’s house.) Kateri let the silence linger in the car, her attention split between double-checking Jess’ position and scanning the street for any suspicious cars driving by (including the same car going by repeatedly) or parked nearby or any, suspicious personages lingering along the strip-mall, on their side of the street, or in any other random places within eyesight.

The involvement of the Sinaloa Cartel had her on edge. She was no stranger to working with nasty local gangs and mob bosses along the eastern seaboard, but the cartels … _are nasty pieces of work on a level all their own_. The mob and gangs, Kateri was familiar with and knew her way around in, knew how to talk to, but Mexican cartels, she would much rather have nothing to do with them.

“Jared’s overdue by an hour,” Jess’ voice suddenly came over comms.

“You know what a hustle is?” Questioned Hana in a fake Spanish accent that was so intentionally bad that Kateri wasn’t sure whether to cringe or laugh.

 _That’s just awful_. _Probably intentionally_. Kateri knew very little Spanish beyond a couple of basic phrases, a few danger words to listen for, and pleasantries, but her accent was excellent … _if sounding like Billy is the goal_. Clinton shook his head, a look of amusement on his face.

“Jared lied to us,” Hana added more seriously a moment later.

“He was ready to deal,” countered Jess, rising from his perch at the store-front, his movements visible even across the street.

Kateri touched her comm, which wasn’t on vox, “The Sinaloa Cartel is a nasty piece of work, boss, and so is Connie for that matter. Jared’s young. Probably lost his nerve. Takes a lot of courage to risk going up against the cartels.”

“Maybe,” Jess agreed, beginning to pace in front of the pizza shop, “or maybe something’s up. On the call, he was buying a bag of ice. He said, ‘our machine is broken.’ Probably at a motel.”

_Ah, that’s what he was talking about._

_Only caught the ice part._

_Shoulda been paying more attention_.

“Like, for example, across the street,” Clinton spoke, activating his comm, and pointing out Kateri’s window to a medium-sized two-level motel a little way up and across the street.

_Bag of ice would be heavy to haul … yea, that could be it._

“Let’s start busting some doors,” Kenny concluded.

Barnes pulled her SUV around to pick up Jess, while Hana, Kenny, Kateri, and Clinton headed down to the motel.

“Should I call for backup?” Kateri asked.

Clinton nodded, “Raleigh PD and SWAT.”

 _Which SWAT?_ Kateri closed her eyes and focused for a moment, trying to pull up a mental map of North Carolina. The closest field office and the only one in North Carolina was in Charlotte. South Carolina’s field office was in Columbia, and _unless I’m totally forgetting geography, neither of those are anywhere close to Raleigh_.

“Local SWAT?” She confirmed, “Think it would take too long to activate a team from the closest field office.”

Clinton nodded, “Local. One of ours could take hours just for driving time. We don’t have that much time.”

_Need to close the loop and fast to have a hope of catching them._

_Or, at least, catching up to them soon_.

Kateri remained outside with the cars, making calls, while Hana and Kenny went inside to question the hapless clerk who had the misfortune of being on duty when the FBI and a good number of Raleigh PD officers were about to come knocking. Raleigh PD was on the ball, and it wasn’t long before cop cars, marked and unmarked, started pulling into the parking lot or onto the streets surrounding the motel, and an armored van soon disgorged the required SWAT team.

Hana and Kenny soon returned. The clerk on-duty had recognized Connie immediately and provided them with the room number, #230. The team quickly got their bullet-proof vests on and kitted up for the raid, as SWAT and the other officers got into position. When all was ready, SWAT headed up one staircase to the second floor, while the team, with Clinton and Kateri holding the rear, took the other staircase.

Everyone paused at the room door, and Kenny started the countdown. Despite the greater danger in raiding most hotel rooms, given (A) the lack of room to maneuver, (B) the choke-point at the door, and (C) the lack of cover within the room, breaching was actually anticlimactic.

Kenny kicked in the door and then backed away, leaving several SWAT officers room to enter first before the team followed. There was no immediate shouting, no shots fired. No nothing until the “Clear” cry came.

The only sound in the room was that of the running shower, and then a moment later came Kenny’s call, “We’ve got a body.”

The hapless Jared Locke was lying, limbs askew, in a massive pool of blood, _which hasn’t congealed_ , on the floor of the tiny motel bathroom. The shower was still running. Blood was spattered everywhere, and Jared … he had quite clearly been battered to death with something heavy, and from even just a quick look at the body, Kateri figured even a coroner might have trouble deciding which killed him first: _blunt force trauma to the head, blunt force trauma to the chest, blood loss, … bloody h**l, you could take your pick of those and probably add on a couple more options, too._

A clean death, this wasn’t.

A painless death, this wasn’t.

 _Beware the wrath of a raging woman_.

A cellphone was lying on the tile floor next to Jared’s body. Barnes picked it up carefully and checked the still-intact screen. “His parent’s number,” she said, “Our boy got made.”

 _Doubly beware the wrath of a psychopath who feels betrayed_.

* * *

With the bus not having arrived in Raleigh yet, the team set up temporary shop in the hotel room to finish looking for clues before they determined the next step. Hana took a seat on the couch and was instantly engrossed in her tablet, but Kateri preferred to find a convenient wall to lean on, since (A) she had been sitting for a while, and (B) with Jared seeming to have been killed in the midst of sexy times, if the forgotten lady’s undergarments were any clue to go by, Kateri wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to sit on the beds or the couch … just in case.

_Not enough room for all six of us, or even five of us, to be searching this room at the same time._

“Amber seduces. Connie executes. Quite a tag team,” was Jess’ summation of the scene as he returned from looking at the body again.

“The license plate that was on Jared’s car was just found in a parking lot in Emporia, Virginia,” Clinton announced, straightening from his crouch where he had been examining the body until his phone buzzed, “They must have switched plates on the car.”

 _Not surprising_.

“I’ve been diving into the Sisterhood of the Traveling Body Count,” Hana piped up when Clinton had finished, her attention still focused on her tablet, “Amber’s page is all BFF photos of her and Connie. Swing over to Connie’s page, and any photo of the two of them was tagged by Amber first. It’s a one-way girl crush.”

 _Amber needs better taste in women_.

“So Amber’s in love with Connie?” asked Kenny, who was studying the nightstand and the stuff that Amber and Connie had left behind in their rushed getaway.

“Or just wants to be Connie,” suggested Barnes.

 _Either way. She needs better taste in who she likes or wants to be_.

Jess, who was sitting next to Hana, straightened and leaned forward to look at her tablet, “Which no doubts feeds into her narcissism.” He paused and then asked suddenly, “What are those posts? Woodmont Preparatory School.”

_Prep school?_

_For Amber’s kid, Zoey?_

“Some school Amber looked at for her kid,” Hana replied.

Jess pulled out his phone and started tapping at for several moments and then held it up next to Hana’s tablet. When he called them over a moment later, Kateri saw what had drawn his attention: the drawing Zoey had given him, that he had brought back to the bus matched quite nicely with the photo of the prep school on Amber’s social media page.

 _Interesting_.

“And there’s Zoey,” Barnes pointed out, gesturing to the cute stick figures in the drawing, “headed to Woodmont with Mom and Connie.”

 _Sounds expensive_. Prep schools usually were.

“I don’t know how Amber would afford it,” Hana noted, as if she were reading Kateri’s mind, “on a security guard’s salary.”

“Robbie Pierce, the plastic surgeon,” Jess noted, rising from his seat, “He could afford it. Maybe Connie promised to foot the bill if Amber helped her get back with Robbie.”

 _Okay, that’s disturbing_.

“By killing Melissa,” Barnes finished his chain of reasoning.

“But lucky for Amber, Connie’s not the only one who can make dreams come true,” Jess added, looking at Hana. He apparently had a plan, another very Jess plan by the sound of it.

* * *

Jess’ plan was a very Jess plan, but it had to be put on hold temporarily until the bus arrived since it required Hana’s technical skill and more tech than just her tablet. Despite hitting traffic around Baltimore and DC on its way south—Kateri remembered too well how awful the traffic around those cities could get at the wrong time of day—the bus arrived around 8pm, and as quickly as possible, the team got resettled in the bus and started to work. The plan rode on Amber’s love for her daughter and her desire to give her a better life and education by getting her into Woodmont Preparatory School.

The bait? A text, purportedly from the school, mentioning an EXTREMELY time-sensitive financial aid opportunity.

The (hoped-for) result? A phone conversation long enough to trace Connie and Amber’s current location.

 _So we can catch up to them before more people die horrible deaths_.

 _I’ll take a gun-shot wound any day before (A) getting stomped to death by spike heels or (B) getting smashed to pieces with a pipe … or whatever that was Connie used on Jared_.

Working as quickly as possible, the team put the plan together, and Hana sent the bait text out to Amber’s phone, and about 8:45pm, the phone in the bus began to ring. Kateri looked up from her computer at the noise, blinking away the sting in her eyes from starring at her computer screen too long without a break. All other work was immediately put-on hold, as Hana grabbed for her headset, Kenny started the trace, and everyone slipped on their comms.

As soon as Kenny gave Hana the high-sign, she connected the call, “Woodmont Prep. Financial Aid. This is Kelly.”

Kateri swiveled her chair around carefully. The quarters were cramped at that end of the bus, and she didn’t want to kick Kenny, who she was sitting next to, as she turned or run her chair into Clinton, who was sitting at the conference table straight behind her.

“Yes, hi,” a soft, slightly hesitant, accented voice replied, “I got a message regarding my daughter, Zoe Matos.”

“Oh, yes,” Hana’s voice was energetic and up-beat … and entirely faked, “Thank you for calling back.”

 _You coulda done well at straight undercover work, I think_. Kateri propped one elbow on the arm of her chair and let her head sink down onto her closed fist. It had been a long day, and she was running out of steam. _Get this done. Get the trace, and hopefully at some point we can get some sleep … even if that’s in the car or on the plane_.

“We have good news,” Hana continued, “One of our students with a full-scholarship next year had to withdraw because her family is leaving the country.” _And here comes the bait_. “And that leaves a spot open for another applicant.”

There were a few hushed breaths, a gasp of delight. “Are you serious?” Amber exclaimed.

“Yes,” Hana rose from her seat and began to pace, fiddling with her fingers as she spoke, “I see you were looking for a spot for next spring. This would be for the fall. Would that be a problem?”

“No, no,” Amber replied, “That’s not a problem. We can definitely make that work. Not a problem at all.”

Kateri glanced over at Kenny’s screen, checking the progress of the trace. _Narrowing it down_. _Need more time_.

“Awesome,” said Hana, still sounding upbeat but more serious now, “We’ll get Zoe in for a face to face tomorrow.”

_Let’s see if this works …_

“Um,” hesitation replaced the delight in Amber’s voice. There was a long pause. “Can my mom bring her in?"

“I’m afraid not,” Hana’s voice was calm and unruffled, continuing the plan in the face of Amber’s expected initial hesitation, “We need parent signatures.”

_What wins, your loyalty to and crush on Connie or your love for your daughter?_

A huff of breath. “Uh, I’m out of town right now,” Amber sounded on the verge of tears, almost crushed, “so I can’t really make that right now.”

Hana moved to lean against the wall, glancing at Jess as she replied, “I can talk to my director.” She moved around the table toward Kenny, Kateri scooching in toward the desk to give her room to pass. “Uh, maybe if you designate your mother as guardian … we can send a form.” Kenny made the keep-her-talking twirl with one finger. “Hang on a few minutes.”

There was a loud banging noise on the other end of the line, and Kateri jumped reflexively. _Bloody h**l_.

“Um, I need to go right now,” Amber’s voice came out low and sacred. _Guessing that was Connie banging_. “Please, please hold the spot for my daughter, ‘cause she’s really smart … so let me just call you back.” Her final words came out in a garbled, teary rush, and then the line went dead.

 _Bloody h**l_.

_She sounds terrified._

_Given what Connie did to Jared, I probably would be, too_.

 _She made her bed, and now she’s lying in it_.

There was silence for a second, as Kenny checked the results of the trace— _we get enough?_ —and then he said, “So the signal’s just outside Charlotte near Old Monroe Road in Stallings. It’s on the move, heading south.”

_Charlotte, that’s a couple hours away._

_Bloody h**l_.

“Get local units all over it,” Jess ordered.

Bags were gathered, and everyone hurried out.

 _Maybe I can nap in the car if I’m not driving_.


	3. Saturday-Sunday, August 31-September 1: Days 3-4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter posted. Real life had to take a priority the last couple weeks.
> 
> After nearly a year working on this series and 420K words (my longest series ever!), I have finally finished Season 1 of FBI: MW, and for now, I'm going to put this series on-hold to give myself some time to rewrite two other fanfic series that I started 5-10 years ago (one LOTR, one Stargate). I've evolved A LOT as a writer since then, and now that I have some inspiration again, I want to work on them again. Unfortunately, being a busy graduate student, I only have time to work on one series at a time. I have every intention of returning to this FBI: MW series sooner or later, and hopefully the fandom will get some new fics/writers in the meantime.

The chase to catch up with Connie and Amber stretched long into the night, making Kateri very glad for more coffee to get over the hump of no sleep. Soon after midnight, the team arrived in a residential neighborhood on the outskirts of Gaffney, South Carolina, by helicopter, _which is worse than planes and trains for smallness_ , after getting a hit back on the BOLO on Jared’s car from state police.

The team filed out of the helicopter, hopping down one by one and running low until they were well clear of the spinning, whirling blades. Several state police officers met them and led them towards a nearby private lane, somewhere sheltered by the trees.

“We found it abandoned,” one of the officers said, as they all made their way down the graveled lane, which was only illuminated by wavering flashlight beams, “There’s a phone left on the passenger seat.”

_Whose phone, I wonder._

“Same make as Jared’s car,” Clinton noted, as the lights lit up a blue SUV abandoned on the road.

“Different license plate, though,” Kateri added, finishing his thought. Her gaze was going back and forth between the car and the decidedly not-level and rather bumpy road. _Do not trip over your own feet_. She wished fervently for actual street lights.

The trunk was pulled up. Car doors were opened, and the car was quickly searched. Since officers had already cleared it, there was no concern of the risk of unpleasant surprises.

“Found the phone,” Kenny said after a moment, “Looks like Amber’s.”

“Connie left it to send us another message,” Jess replied, peering under the driver’s seat.

Barnes grimaced, “Hope it’s not bad news for Amber.”

 _Bloody h**l, I hope not_. Connie would already be on edge and more suspicious after the fiasco with Jared. Psychopaths and nut-jobs like her, they could see betrayal around every corner whether it was warranted or not. _Hopefully, our call didn’t just cost her her life_.

A second passed, and then there was a small thunk, and Jess pulled back, holding an orange pill bottle in one hand, which he had found under the seat. He peered at it, trying to illuminate the label with the flashlight in his other hand to read the label in the darkness, “A prescription for Connie.” He paused for a moment and then held the bottle out so the others could see, “Check out the prescribing doctor.”

_Robbie Pierce._

Kateri’s eyebrows hit her hairline.

 _How very, very interesting_.

* * *

Finding out what the h**l was going on with Pierce … _and what the h**l he thinks he’s doing in not telling us this before_ … was the next order of business. The prescription that Pierce had written for his _psychotic_ ex-girlfriend had, interestingly enough, been written only THREE days before Melissa had been murdered and Connie, Amber, and Jared had gone on the run.

Only three days.

_Very interesting timing._

_And so much for the clean break Barnes said he’d mentioned_.

_And why is he prescribing her meds anyway?_

_Ex-girlfriend … I’m no doc or lawyer, but that seems like a conflict of interest_.

About 4am, Jess and Barnes left for Charlotte to fly flew back to New Jersey to confront Pierce, leaving Kateri, Clinton, Hana, and Kenny at the bus to (A) get some rest … _first and most important at this point before I doze off in my chair again_ and then (B) to keep trying to track where Amber and Connie were heading … _now that they’ve ditched the car and the phone_.

(Kateri could only hope that their next lead on their location was NOT when someone found Amber’s broken and battered body in a ditch … or a motel room … or a river bank.)

By the time everyone dragged themselves up a little before 9am, there were messages waiting from Jess and Barnes. Pierce, they revealed, had been Connie’s doctor before the two had begun dating. _Doctors and patients … former patients … whatever, sounds like a conflict of interest waiting to happen … or a lawsuit_. His defense for writing her that prescription was that “he could not abandon her medically.” _Because???_ He also had admitted that he had actually slept with Connie after she had come to his apartment to drop off a going away present after she had heard about his planned departure for Hawaii. _Oh, yes, the job offer in Oahu_. The “pity sex,” as Barnes had termed it, had only happened once, but given the timing and its close proximity with Melissa’s murder, that one act of idiotic weakness had fed the fires of Connie’s obsessions and delusions, giving her hope of getting back together with Pierce.

Pierce’s actions had directly led to the murder of his own fiancée.

 _Not something I’d want to live with the rest of my life_.

The only upside to that disaster was that the team could try to leverage that hope to their own advantage.

_Get to Connie through Pierce._

_Might work_.

Jess and Barnes would stay in Jersey long enough to coach Pierce on what to say and get a new statement recorded and set to broadcast on air that night. Then they’d return to South Carolina.

 _And hopefully, Connie’ll take the bait_.

* * *

As the team ate dinner late Saturday night, Kateri watched as Robbie Pierce’s message was broadcast on a major new channel. Hana had brought it up on one of the big monitors at her desk. Dr. Pierce was sitting in what was clearly some sort of office, perhaps his office. Bland white paint scheme. The only real spots of color were the black phone, an unused black desk chair, and some sort of green plant.

“The Connie I know is far from perfect,” his voice was earnest and sincere, and his message totally faked, “But I just don't believe she killed Melissa.”

“She's not evil. Now, Melissa's patient, Jared Locke, he was the one with the grudge.”

_Yea, he had a grudge._

_He sure wasn’t the only one, though_.

“I-I think that Connie tried to stop him. And now she's scared.”

_Certainly sounds good._

_And she’s desperate enough to want to believe him._

“Robbie, if you could talk to Connie, what would you say?” The reporter sitting off camera asked. She had a nice calm voice and sounded like an older woman.

Pierce swiveled to look directly into the camera. “Stop running, Connie. I think you know how I feel about you. I will stand by you, I will get you a lawyer. Just... just reach out, any way you can.”

 _For a nice set of lies, that certainly sounds good_.

 _Now to see if it works_.

* * *

Saturday night, everyone was actually able to get some sleep … and before the wee hours of Sunday morning, too. When morning came, they all set back to work … with the aid of more coffee. _How I’ve never managed to get addicted to this stuff, I don’t know._ The break that the team had been waiting for came early that morning when a video message was sent to Robbie Pierce’s Instagram account.

A message from Ernesto Cruz.

The cousin of Connie’s with the connection to the Sinaloa Cartel.

The cousin that the team had been trying to find since the case began.

The cousin that Kateri had been putting calls into to no effect.

_He dropped off the map._

_And now he just dropped himself into our laps_.

“Bloody h**l,” Kateri murmured to herself, as Hana brought the message up, “He just ruined all his attempts to stay hidden.”

Clinton snorted, “Go get Jess, please, kid.”

Kateri nodded and rose from her seat, stretching out the kinks in her back as she did so. Threading her way around bags and chairs, she exited the bus, trotting down the metal stairs. She blinked at the bright sun and squinted, shading her eyes with one hand as she looked around for Jess. _Bloody h**l, it’s bright out here._ (The sunshades at the front of the bus were drawn, and the inside was comparatively dark and shady.)

Jess was standing out by the SUVs, his phone pressed to his ear, still on the calls that had drawn him outside in the first place a little while earlier. He looked up immediately, though, as Kateri trotted over.

“Ernesto Cruz, Connie’s cousin, just sent a message to Pierce. Hana has it primed,” she said quickly.

Jess’ eyes widened, “Give me a minute, and I’ll be in.”

Kateri nodded and returned to the bus. After the bright sun outside, the light which had seemed quite reasonable inside the bus now seemed quite dark, and she blinked several times until her eyes readjusted. “Jess’ll be here in a minute,” she said, retaking her seat beside her partner, “He’s still on his laundry list of calls.”

Jess arrived a few minutes later.

“This came in ten minutes ago to Robbie Pierce's Instagram,” Kenny, who was leaning over Hana’s shoulder to look at the crime scene photos she had up, said.

Ernesto Cruz was a young man with light brown skin, jet black hair, a slight accent and a look that Kateri wouldn’t have expected in someone connected to the cartels, _but that’s what makes you good at that life. Don’t look like the stereotypical gangster that makes the cops watch you. Stay under the radar. Make yourself unnoticeable, and that’s how you get good_. “Hey, you don't know me, but I know your girl Connie. I saw you on TV. I think I can help you get in touch with Connie, but it'll take some effort from you. Paid effort. Call me back.”

“You heard him,” ordered Jess after the message finished, “Hit him back. Set a meeting. And drill his phone. I want every message he sent in the last week.”

* * *

An hour’s work brought even more fascinating information, and Cruz messaged ‘Pierce’ back with a time that day and a location for the meeting. The reason that the team had not been able to locate Cruz before was that he had changed his name— _legally or not is up for grabs_ —to Simon Reyes and was now working at a bar in Stallings, North Carolina, a small town in the suburbs of Charlotte.

_Near the location from which we got that ping the other night during the call with Amber._

_That’s what Connie and Amber were doing there._

_Meeting with Cruz … help getting across the border?_

Getting the warrant to search Cruz’s phone— _the risk of stuff being in the cloud_ —was easily obtained— _judge doesn’t have to think too long about this warrant request_ —and they found a lot of texts between Cruz and Connie … recently, including discussions about getting a known fugitive across the border into Mexico.

 _Three guesses and two don’t count of who that fugitive is_.

With that information in hand, Jess and Barnes with Clinton and Kateri took one of the cars and left Gaffney for Stallings, an hour’s drive away, leaving Hana and Kenny at the bus to keep working. The meeting Cruz had set was for later in the day and in Charlotte, _but we’re not playing by Cruz’s rules … so he gets a surprise visit at work_.

* * *

Cruz was throwing bulging trash bags into the massive metal bins in the alley behind the bar when they pulled up. Alerted to the agent’s arrival by the sound of car doors slamming, the young man turned towards them, asking, “Can I help you?”

“You tell us,” Barnes responded, holding up her badge.

_So what exactly are you doing in a little town like this?_

Kateri stuffed her hands into her pockets and, standing just a little behind her partner, did her best to make herself unnoticeable. Jess and Barnes would do most of the talking, leaving Kateri to study Cruz in peace.

_Hiding from the cartels?_

“Dr. Pierce couldn’t make it,” Clinton added dryly, which drew an exasperated curse from Cruz.

 _I doubt the cartels do much here_.

 _Lot more to draw their intention in big cities_.

“We're not interested in putting you back in jail, Mr. Cruz,” said Jess, “We want your cousin Connie.”

 _Preferably before she kills more people … horribly_.

“I don't know where she is …,” Cruz tried to protest, frowning and shrugging his shoulders.

Barnes cut him off, not letting his protestations slide. _We know you’re lying, and you’re not a very good liar anyway_. “We've got you texting back and forth with her, on and on about getting a known fugitive across the border.”

_I can lie better than you injured and half-doped up on meds._

“Bitch,” Cruz murmured.

 _Try using a burner next time. Not your own d**m cell-phone, you idiot_.

“She's all about going to Mexico.” _Figured that out already_. “I told her I'll hook her up with a dude who could make it happen.” _How’d you ever make it in the cartels? Billy woulda ousted you for a mistake that dumb so fast your head woulda spun._

“Cartel associate,” Clinton’s words made it clear that was a statement, not a question.

Cruz’s reply was shocking, “Yeah, who's been dead five years. I was playing her, man. The cartel stuff? I told Connie that when she was 16, to impress her. I got no connects with the cartels.”

(Kateri found that she actually believed him this time).

_Well, that explains how you survived while being a moron._

_You survived because you had no connections to begin with_.

There was a beat of silence. Jess looked across at Clinton and then at Kateri for a moment, before turning back to Cruz. “You do now.”

* * *

The cartel associate Cruz had sent Connie and Amber to had lived in Atlanta, Georgia, and so it was to Georgia, the team went next, arriving early in the afternoon to cold rain— _cold, blowing rain … sometimes I hate my life_ —grey storm clouds, and, of course, a thunderstorm, instead of the sunnier warmth of the Carolinas. The meet had been set up for early that afternoon in one of the city parks, and after getting a hasty bite of lunch, the team headed to there to get set up … and to wait … in the rain.

_Always be early to a meet._

_Never know what’s waiting for you_.

_Especially with Connie involved._

That rule Kateri had learned early during her time as an undercover operative. Doing that waiting, however, was much more pleasant _when Georgia isn’t doing its best to make me think they have a monsoon season_. The only upside was, with all the rain, there were less people in the park to keep an eye on.

 _At least, we got a bench under the tree_. Kateri thought as the meet time approached. The tree sheltered them somewhat from the rain, which meant that between the tree and her oversized raincoat with a hood, she was only soaked from about the knees down, _instead of totally soaked_.

Clinton, who was sitting placidly beside her, unbothered by the rain, only had a leather jacket and a cowboy hat to keep off the rain. _I’ve gotten spoiled. Got a lot wetter than this plenty of times, and I lived_. Considering that non-cold weather hats weren’t often a necessity, Kateri wasn’t sure whether her partner generally brought a cowboy hat with him or just happened to have it with him, for some undetermined reason, on this case.

Kateri scanned what of the park she could see again, rechecking again her teammates’ positions, looking for new people, studying any new movements by the people already there, and occasionally glancing up at Cruz, who was standing a couple feet away.

 _No sign of Connie or Amber yet_.

Atlanta. Kateri had never been to Atlanta before. Over 850 miles from New York by car. _I wonder if we’ve ever gotten this far from New York on a case before. Not that I recall_. She made a mental-note to ask her partner later … _once we’re out of this d**ned rain_.

Finally, Cruz straightened, his gaze focused on a small figured, coming up the steps toward their bench. Black leggings and a black jacket. Baseball cap shading the face. A hoodie pulled up to shelter her face from off the rain. _Here we go_. “Hey. Esta la chica.[1]”

The figure froze on the stairs, staring up at where Kateri, Clinton, and Cruz were waiting. Then, she turned and headed back down the steps.

 _Bloody h**l_.

Kateri and Clinton rose hastily, throwing back an order at Cruz to wait there— _don’t make us chase you down, too_ —and hurried down the steps, racing side-by-side after the figure, who had increased her pace into a run.

Puddles splashed under their feet, and Kateri was glad for shoes with good tread, _or I might end up on my a** in the mud_ , which would make an annoying day, weather-wise, a whole lot worse. The whole team was in pursuit now, and Amber or Connie, whichever it was, was making good pace across the soggy ground.

Then, Hana flew up on a perpendicular course and body-checked her to the ground.

They both landed with a splash and a glup on the muddy grass.

A second later, Kenny and Barnes arrived, and together the three got the struggling woman under control— _too small to be a man_ _anyway_ —and pulled her bodily up off the ground.

It was Amber, Kateri saw as she and Clinton ran up.

_Where the h**l is Connie then?_

With one fist in her jacket and the other hand pinning Amber’s arms behind her back, Barnes held the young woman in place, while Kenny quickly searched her for weapons. After the initial momentary struggle, maybe instinctive after getting tackled, all the fight seemed to have gone out of Amber.

Kenny pulled a handgun out from Amber’s waistband, “Nine mil. Looks like the murder weapon.”

 _Well, bloody h**l_.

Amber was marched back to the SUVs waiting in a nearby parking lot, and there Barnes searched her more thoroughly. The first search in the field had only been for weapons, anything that Amber could have been used on herself or against the team, but now the search was for anything and everything that could be of use to the case _and give us a clue where Connie is_.

“You're just making things worse for yourself, Amber,” said Jess, approaching the group, “Why don't you tell us where Connie is?”

 _For your daughter’s sake, if not your own_.

Amber stayed silent. She looked exhausted and almost in tears, like a woman who had gotten in too deep and couldn’t see a way out.

 _The kid needs her mother_.

_Connie looks out for Connie first and foremost._

_Have some sense. Get clear while you can_.

A second later, Barnes pulled out a key-card from Amber’s front jacket pocket, and she held it up so the others could see. _Chesterfield Motel, got you_.

* * *

Amber was given over into the care of waiting Atlanta PD officers and taken away to the local police station, as Kateri put in calls to get police presence over to the motel and to get a SWAT team scrambled for the upcoming raid that the team would have to conduct.

_Catch Connie before she realizes this went south and bolts._

The hapless clerk at the Chesterfield Motel who had the misfortune to be on duty that afternoon was more than happy to aid the team, when they arrived there half-an-hour-later, and quickly identified Connie and Amber as the women staying in room 229.

The front room of the hotel was strangely empty as the agents broke in, and for a moment Kateri wondered if Connie wasn’t even there, _and if she’s out and comes back and even see a whiff of cops, she might bolt, if she hasn’t bolted already_. Then Kenny, who had reached the back of the room, where the bathroom was, motioned with his head for his others to come, and only then did Kateri hear a noise: sobbing … coming from the bathroom.

_What the h**l?_

Kenny kicked the door open, his gun at the ready, and flipped on the light.

Kateri came up beside Jess and saw who was sitting on the bathroom floor: Connie, wide-eyed and tear-streaked, Duct tape across her lips, her hands cuffed to one of the pipes under the sink.

_What the h**l?_

“Oh, thank God!” Connie gasped, her voice teary, when Kenny ripped the tape off her face, “I really thought she was gonna kill me this time.”

“Who?” Kenny asked, pulling her to her feet.

 _What the h**l is going on?_ Kateri wondered, stepping back out of the way to give them room to get out of the bathroom. She reholstered her Glock but kept her hand on it … just in case. Something fishy was going on, and _I don’t trust Connie as far as I could throw her_.

“Amber. You know, she killed Melissa. I saw her,” Connie stuttered and stutter-stepped out of the bathroom. Barnes caught her shoulders and started to search her quickly, “I tried to save her, I really did, but then Jared, he had a gun.” Her voice began to break, and she looked about ready to burst into tears.

“Okay, take it easy. Take it easy,” Barnes ordered.

 _You spin a good sob-story._ Kateri cut a glance over at Clinton, who was back by the room door. He had heard every word and looked as skeptical as she felt. _I don’t believe a word of it_.

Amber, unlike Connie, had no motive for killing Melissa.

 _And it would be a stretch for me to believe she was capable of murder. You, Connie, sure_.

“You know, they forced me into the car, they said that I had to take them to Mexico,” Connie continued to spin her tale, “After I sent the video, I just prayed that someone would find me.”

_What video?_

“What video is this?” Jess asked.

Connie shot him a horrified look, “The one I posted to Facebook. Did it not go through?”

* * *

The video had indeed made it up to Facebook, but it had just gone up so recently that Hana hadn’t had time to look through the alerts she had set for those social media profiles given the operation in the park. The team returned to the bus for food ( _a very, very late lunch_ ) and dry clothes, and when they had obtained the latter and were in the process of obtaining the former, they settled down to watch the video.

 _Think I’m gladder for the dry clothes than the food_. Kateri’s pants-leg had dried somewhat during the raid, after nearly being stuck through, but then they had stuck to her legs, and combined with the damp that had gotten into her socks, she had just felt cold.

The video Hana pulled up was a doozy.

_Connie is a very convincing liar._

_The voice, the tears, the facial expression, she’s good_.

Psychopaths were often very good fakes.

_I’ve seen better, but she’s d**n good._

In the video, Connie was sitting in a pitch-black room, her face lit up only by her phone screen. She was sitting next to something white, probably the toilet. _So in the bathroom, then_.

“My name is Connie Romano. I'm being held against my will by Amber Matos. She's in the next room, hooking up with some guy. I'm in a motel somewhere in Georgia. Please, please help me. I did not kill Melissa Alden. Amber Matos did. And she killed Jared Locke. And if somebody doesn't find me soon, I'm gonna be next. Please contact the police and tell them that …” There was a gasp and Connie’s scared face froze, the video ending suddenly.

“You buy it?” Asked Clinton, skeptically, “She could've tied herself up.”

“Not a chance in h**l, I buy it,” Kateri replied, snapping a lid onto the cup of coffee she had just made, and slipped around Kenny to retake her seat at the small table where Jess was sitting.

 _But the video sure looks damning_.

“Her plastic ties seemed a bit loose,” Kenny added, retaking his own seat at the conference table, “She could've slipped out whenever she wanted to.”

_Connie’s hanging out to dry_

_The only person dead loyal to her._

The question was: _now how do we prove that?_

 _Before Amber does get hung out to dry_.

* * *

The resolution of the case, which took up the rest of the afternoon and the evening, was rather anticlimactic compared to most cases. No more raids. No running hither and thither. No chasing suspects. No shootouts. Rather, the team left the bus, which was about to be taken home as soon as the driver arrived, and headed across town to the police station were Amber and Connie were being held. Once they arrived there, Barnes and Jess headed straight to Amber’s interrogation room, leaving the others to find some chairs and a place to wait.

The chairs they found were just around the corner from Amber’s interrogation room, enabling Kateri and the others to hear bits of the conversation which drifted down the hall, since Barnes had left the door open as she entered.

Barnes started the interrogation by playing Connie’s video, while Jess wandered off to grab them some coffee.

“I did not kill Melissa Alden. Amber Matos did.”

And she killed Jared Locke. And if somebody doesn't find me soon,

I’m gonna be next. Please contact the …”

“Ms. Matos, I advise you not to say anything,” an older woman’s voice spoke.

_Probably the public defender._

_Cops said she’d arrived._

Kateri shifted around in her chair, trying to get comfortable on the hard plastic. _These things were not made for extended occupation_. Her full backpack rested against her legs. _I’m ready to go home_. This had been one of the shorter cases, but yet one of the crazier ones. _What a mess._ She felt sorry for Amber— _she needs better tastes in friends, crushes, or both_ —but sorrier for Zoe, who to some extent or another was going to pay a price for her mother’s poor choices.

“Not even to deny what her friend said?” Jess asked.

“It's obviously a self-serving statement with no probative value,” the lawyer replied.

 _Maybe, but a very damning self-serving statement that makes things look very not good for Amber_.

With nothing else to do but listen for the moment, Kateri pulled out her personal phone and began to scroll through news headlines from home.

 _At some point, just keeping your mouth shut is a better course of action_.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” responded Jess, before tag-teaming with Barnes to explain why, based on circumstantial evidence, the case against Amber was strong.

“Odds are Connie will walk,” ended Barnes.

_Which would be a disaster._

_Just what we need, one more psycho on the streets._

_How long before we’d just be tracking her down again?_

“Is that the backup plan, Amber?” Jess asked, “We find you at the park, and you take the blame for everything to save Connie?

_Probably, considering Connie._

_Doesn’t want to take responsibility for her own actions and choices._

_Makes her most loyal follower the fall-guy … gal_.

“I need to talk to my client,” said Amber’s lawyer.

“Let me give you something to talk about,” said Jess. There was a light thump and then a big thump as the metal door of the interrogation door was shut hard.

 _Jess is trying to make a point_. Hearing that metal door shut … _makes you think of prison doors._ Kateri wondered if that was the point. _Amber needs a wake-up call before she ends up in prison, maybe for life, for two murders she didn’t commit_.

Kateri slipped her phone back into her pocket and let her head thunk back against the wall.

_Better to let a guilty man go free than punish an innocent, but this isn’t right._

_Connie is as guilty as the day is long, but anyone with half a brain could tell this is not looking good for Amber_.

 _A bloody mess_.

Jess and Barnes emerged from around the corner a couple of minutes later. Their faces were grave, and Jess was carrying the picture Zoe had given him—the one of the school with the duck-pond, painted in pretty, bright collars—in his hand.

“Amber confessed,” said Jess, “She said she did everything.”

_What? Seriously?_

_Oh, bloody h**l_.

Hana shook her head, and Kenny swore.

“Between the video and Amber's statement, Connie could hang the jury,” Clinton noted, “With a half-decent lawyer, she can cut herself a pretty sweet deal.”

Kateri looped one hand through her backpack straps and pushed herself to her, “We chase a murderous psychopath across the country, and now she’ll probably get to walk.” She was tired and frustrated with the whole d**n situation.

“While Amber does life for two murders,” Hana added, “It’s wrong.”

_Extremely wrong._

_Horrifically wrong_.

 _Yet one more POC in jail for a crime they didn’t commit_.

“She thinks she's giving her child a chance at a better life,” Barnes noted, threading her way through the obstacle course of people and bags.

“How the h**l does that even work?” Kateri’s tone was bewildered, “Having her mother in jail, how does that make anything better?” A hand squeezed her shoulder comfortingly, and she subsided with a heavy sigh, shaking her head. She shot her partner a half-forced smile over her shoulder.

“Connie's lucky she found a weak person to even take the fall,” Kenny groused, starting up the hallway to join Hana and Barnes.

Kateri stayed beside her partner, shooting a look back over her shoulder toward the interrogation room. It was time to go home, but it felt wrong to leave, knowing Amber was going to take the fall. _The price of loving the wrongg person_.

“Psychopaths don't just prey on the weak. Connie gave Amber what every human being wants... a connection,” Jess was leaning against the wall across from the chairs where Kateri, Hana, and Kenny had been sitting, waiting. He seemed to be either looking at his shoes or starring holes into the floor. He paused, looked up, and then began to pace, “Sense of belonging. It's very powerful.” _That’s for bloody sure._ “Amber probably thinks the day she met Connie was the second best day of her life, and Connie won't let her forget it.”

_What would the best day of her life be?_

_Day the kiddo was born?_

“She needs a sycophant to control, to manipulate,” Jess continued, pacing back up the hall towards the team. “Otherwise, her outsized sense of self would crumble.”

Clinton’s phone began to buzz. Kateri shifted away a step, giving him room to grab it without risking elbowing her in the ribs. He automatically tilted the phone so she could read over his shoulder.

Extradition.

“The Monmouth County DA's office started the extradition process against Connie and Amber,” Clinton added aloud.

“They're gonna have a mess on their hands,” said Barnes.

Kateri snorted, “Wouldn’t want to have their job today.”

 _Or at most any point … don't think I’d be cut out to be a lawyer_.

Jess pushed away from the hall, turned towards the two partners, “Dig up all you can on Connie's father, the one that abandoned her when she was a kid.”

_Do we even have a name for him?_

He paced back up the hall towards the others, “We can't do it. We can't just kick the can down the road. We have to sort this out now. We have to try.”

_So much for getting to go home and get some rest anytime soon._

If they could find something to get the heat off of Amber, to show that Connie truly was the killer, not the victim, that would be a price worth paying.

* * *

Pride

Overconfidence

An inflated sense of superiority

Talking too much in the interrogation room

Refusing a lawyer who could tell you to shut up

Those alone or in concert had been the downfall of many a criminal over the years, and they proved to be the downfall of Connie Romano, as well.

The local precinct was happy to let the team use an empty conference room, and they settled down there with coffee to start tracking down Connie’s father: Mateo.

_We did have the name._

_I just forgot_.

It took some digging and required using his social security number, but finally the team found him. He was going by Matt Roman now and had a new happy family, and pictures of his wife and kids, Connie’s half-siblings, were plastered all over his Facebook page.

But not one picture of Connie.

And when the team called him to tell him Connie was in trouble? He wanted nothing to do with her.

Connie was settled in a different interrogation room, and armed with that information, Jess and Barnes went into talk with her, with Clinton, Kateri, Kenny, and Hana in the next room watching … and recording everything that was said.

It only took six minutes.

Six minutes before overconfidence, anger, and pride loosened Connie’s tongue, and she incriminated herself.

“Melissa died quick. He doesn't deserve that much mercy. If it was him instead of her, I would've taken my time. You can tell him that when you talk to him. I'm his daughter. I'm his daughter. And this is what I did. And he should feel ashamed for hurting me.

Kateri watched Connie, could see her face change as she spoke, the mask of the victim fading away to reveal a cruel smirk that almost put shivers down the agent’s spine.

 _And that’s the true Connie_.

 _We got her_.

Everyone met in the hallway.

“We got everything on tape,” Clinton told Jess and Barnes.

 _And that won’t look so good in front of a jury_.

“Now Jersey can have her,” added Barnes.

 _And they can keep her_.

Connie was marched out of the interrogation room by an office, probably on her way to holding, and the team separated, pressing back against the walls to give them room to pass down the narrow hallway.

“Can you send me the number for that school?” Jess asked Hana quietly, as they all started to make their way back to the conference room to pick up their bags and head out, “Maybe there's a program Amber's daughter can qualify for. She had nothing to do with any of this. Maybe she can have a soft landing.”

 _I hope so. I really hope so_.

 _Amber’s not going to come off Scott-free, I don’t think, but sooner or later, hopefully sooner, Zoe’ll get her mother back_. 

* * *

[1] Spanish. “There’s the girl.“


End file.
